Urahara's delivery service
by kitsunelover300
Summary: Up for adoption!
1. Chapter 1

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, its' characters or even this story. Well, I don't own the first few chapters of this story. Credits go to Tite Kubo and KivaEmber respectively.**

Me: Hey, guys, sorry for the late updates but sophmore year has been really hectic lately. But I assure you all, I am working on the next chapter of "Viceroy". Anyway, this is another story started by Kiva and I am going to try my best to complete it. As I am not Kiva, I have no idea what kind of ideas she had for both stories so I would appreciate it if you guys would help me now and then.

Rei: Kitsu-chan is right, as the courteir, I will not allow these stories to fall apart.

Shiro: HEY, WHA' ARE YA DOING 'ERE! YER NOT SUPPOSED TA BE IN THIS STORY!

Rei: I am allowed to go wherever i want, whenever I want Shirosaki-kun.

Shiro: THE HELL YA ARE!

Me: Guys, don't make me call the clowns again!

Both: O.O *shudders and cowers and in the corner*

Me:*laughs sadistically*Works everytime. Anyway, ENJOY!

**URAHARA'S DELIVERY SERVICE! 001: Ichigo the Prostitute**

It was strange how the disconcerting feeling of déjà vu unexpectedly leaps out at you.

Shiro sighed heavily, wondering for the umpteenth time that night why he took this teen in (he was sure that the stranger was a teen, he certainly looked it). Pity, probably, mixed with bitter nostalgia of the two years he spent in dingy clubs and street corners trying to snatch up enough money just to buy a decent meal, all at the cost of his body.

Back then; it didn't matter if the money was dirty or stained with blood. Money was money no matter how you got it, and that was the only thing that he strived for at the time.

He shook those memories away. Despite being 'dirty' in sense, he didn't regret those days. They were fun, but he couldn't have lived the rest of his life like that. He'd probably be dead by now, from starvation or OD, if Urahara didn't find him.

He also had a gut feeling about the redhead.

The aforementioned redhead was looking around his living room nervously, slim fingers curled round the smooth porcelain of a steaming mug. Shiro scrutinised the sooty eyelashes, thick kohl outlining almond, ochre eyes and smooth, tanned skin. The teen had good looks; he admitted that, probably got good business too. But he could easily see the dislike of submission in the teen's posture, being a prostitute isn't a good career for him.

Shiro sipped his hot beverage, eerie golden eyes slipping shut. He remembered when customers always murmured to him about his 'beautiful eyes'. To be honest, he hated them himself. "You're not cut out t' be a prostitute." He said at last, lowering his mug slightly.

"It's money." The teen countered, rubbing the smooth surface of his mug with clean fingers (their hands have to be clean, or look it at least). "So is this going to be a quickie or are you just paying me to admire me?"

Practised, Shiro mused. "T' make that sentence seem more natural, you hafta keep yer eyes half lidded, put a possible purr in there or somethin' flirty." He sipped his drink. "But pretty good fer a novice at least."

"You've been in business too?"

"Two years." Shiro lowered his empty mug on the coffee table, leaning back in his couch with an instinctual seductive pose, something that he never quite stamped out. "But it's nothin' t' be proud of. I don' regret those days, really, but I'm glad I'm not in business anymore."

The teen scoffed softly, dark ochre eyes staring blankly at the contents of his mug. "Two years, huh? Only four months for me." The redhead shook his head slowly, the vibrant orange strands looked silky and soft under the living room's light. They had to look their best. "I've hated every second of it."

"I could guess." The albino leant his head back, a flirtatious smirk playing on pale lips. "No offence, but ya don' have th'…_character_ befittin' a prostitute. Ya seem like a loyal kinda guy t' me. You desperate?"

The redhead nodded mutely. "Yeah…one of the guys _loves_ it; to be honest it's the perfect job for him but…" The teen sighed heavily. "I know this girl who's in business and she _really_ isn't cut out for it. Really sweet and kind but…"

"Not a whore?" Shiro shrugged. "It happens. Th' bad people get what they want an' th' good people are left scrabblin' around in a ditch fer food or money." The albino shook his head again. "Sad place."

The redhead shifted nervously. "…Are you actually paying me?"

"'Course. I know how it is." Shiro flashed a lopsided grin at his guest. "But I'm jus' wonderin' if ya wanna continue your life as a whore. I've got a job fer ya that won' demand for ya t' drop yer pants fer money. Pays better too." He pushed himself up from his couch, whisking his mug from the coffee table and tutting at the ring left on the smooth mahogany surface. "Coasters. Gotta buy coasters."

"Why? I'm a stranger to you." The redhead pointed out, raising a hand to his eye as if to rub it, paused, then lowered it again. "Or is this some elaborate way to get a boy-toy for yourself?"

Shiro couldn't stop a bark of laughter. "W-What? Sorry, but no. If I wanna fuck I'll jus' come out an' say it." He walked from the living room into his kitchen, his voice carrying easily to the confused teen. "I admit yer hot, prob'ly have a lot of customers too." Shiro re-entered the room, one hand on his hip, tilting his head to the side. Another of his poses that he couldn't stamp out of his system. "Nah. I dunno why I'm helpin' ya. You remind me of myself so that's prob'ly why."

The redhead eyed him suspiciously, but he couldn't hide the faint glimmer of hope in those ochre orbs. "What job is it?"

"Th' job is workin' at a delivery service…it ain't jus' any delivery service 'course, but I'm sure I can get Urahara t' hire ya. He hired me after all." Shiro seemed to ponder this briefly before returning his attention to the curious redhead. "I've even got a spare room in 'ere. It's up t' you in th' end though. I can't force ya t' stay, you can continue yer life as a prostitute or you can do what I did an' accept some stranger's help." Actually, Urahara had damn well dragged him from the club, proclaiming that he was now his employee and wasn't allowed to sell himself anymore. Shiro had sulked for days but he eventually got over it.

"Delivery service?" The redhead fidgeted nervously, kohl-lined eyes narrowed in thought. "How much does it pay?" He asked shrewdly.

"Right down to th' important stuff, eh?" Shiro laughed. Man, this kid really reminded him of himself. "Depends on th' importance of th' delivery. Yer experiences of bein' a whore would come in handy. Ulquiorra is like an animated rock." The albino sauntered forwards, a pale hand ruffling silky orange strands. "You in, kid?"

"I'm not 'kid'." The teen snapped mulishly, jerking from the contact harshly. "And…I guess…it's better then hanging around those clubs and letting some bastard fondle me."

"That's th' spirit." Shiro stepped back from the redhead's personal space. "Well, I guess we might as well introduce ourselves. Th' name's Masshiro Shiro – don't laugh – jus' call me Shiro. None of this suffix crap." (1)

"My name's Kurosaki Ichigo." The ex-prostitute sighed softly, shoulders sagging as if a great weight had been lifted. "I'll seriously quit being a whore?"

"You'll prob'ly hafta use yer charm, but…yep." The albino stood back, scrutinising the redhead closely. "…Y'know…black an' white would look better then that."

"Shut up, I can barely afford enough to feed myself."

Shiro raised his hands up in surrender. "Oi, oi! You'll be able t' go on a shoppin' spree soon…roomie." The albino strutted from the living room with a maniacal cackle.

Ichigo didn't get the joke.

X.x.X

"Awww! He's such a cutie!"

Ichigo twitched violently, bronze eyes snapping to Shiro as if to say, '_This_ is our employer?'

"Yo. Crackhead, I don' think he appreciates bein' called 'cutie'." Shiro muttered from behind his magazine, '_Safe routes through Hell_'. "Damn path through seven is blocked by Berial. Fat ass…" The albino continued mumbling under his breath and missed the bemused expression on his new roommate's face.

"Well my lil' prostitute!" The blonde man cried exuberantly, a green striped fan being flapped around wildly. "I would introduce you to your other two co-workers but they're out on a delivery at the moment, and I'll introduce you to the helpers after your first job!"

"Helpers?" Ichigo was pinned to his new boss's side and he instinctively tensed up. The blonde man didn't notice or ignored it.

"Tessai, Jinta and Ururu of course!" Ichigo threw a semi-panicked look over the exuberant male's arm back at the albino; unfortunately Shiro was too absorbed in his magazine to see their newest addition being carted off by a madman – who was coincidently their boss. "Oh! And we can't forget Yoruichi! They help out when there are too many deliveries! Finally, Masshiro-chan has a partner!"

Ichigo sighed as they entered a room. Seemed he was all alone in this one. Like that wasn't new. "Hey…what 'deliveries' do you do anyway? Shiro mentioned about me having to use my 'charm'…"

"You've heard of 'Shinigami' and 'Hollows' right? Of course you have, you've got high reiatsu!"

"Er…sorry to burst your bubble but…no."

The eternally unshaven man didn't seem surprised or put out. "That doesn't matter; Masshiro-chan will tell you aaaall about it!" Ichigo's boss released him and practically skipped up to the far wall, fan brandished fiercely. "Masshiro-chan probably doesn't know why he picked you up, but his instincts are strong, uncannily so." Urahara paused. "You know…you're exactly like Masshiro-chan when he first joined!"

Ichigo fidgeted, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes and smudge his make up. When he awoke that morning, he had mechanically applied his kohl and prettied himself up before realising he wasn't a prostitute anymore. He had stood for exactly ten minutes in front of the mirror as that thought finally sunk in. He had then laughed and twirled around _his_ room in delirious joy until Shiro had barged into his room and dragged him off to a café for food.

He felt like he was top of the world for a few blissful moments.

"I don't care." Ichigo grumbled. "'Slong as I don't need to sleep with some perverted old fart, I'll do whatever you want me to."

"Definitely like Masshio-chan." Urahara mumbled to himself. "Right then, your delivery is to Mayuri-san. He's my predecessor in the Scientific Research and Development of Seireitei. But he only plays God, unlike me!" The eternally unshaven man cackled. "Playing is for children!"

Ichigo allowed his new boss to have his Evil Dictator moment before coughing discreetly.

"Ah! Yes, ahem. Top secret delivery!" Urahara rummaged about in a box before procuring a small container. He pushed it into Ichigo's tanned palm and shooed the redhead away with his green striped fan. "Chop chop! Money isn't made by standing around! Maybe when you get back, Grimmjow-kun and Ulquiorra-kun will be back!"

Ichigo left the eternally unshaven blonde man to his (questionable) devices; utterly confused how his life had done a complete 180°, from a prostitute to some delivery boy. All because he met Shiro.

The aforementioned albino looked up from his magazine. "Who's it sendin' to?"

"Some Mayuri guy."

"Ah fuck." Shiro grimaced, taking the small package from his new co-workers hand and putting it in his coat pocket. "I hate that lunatic. C'mon. It's time t' show ya th' ropes, kid."

"I told you, it's not 'kid'." Ichigo snapped. "It's Ichigo."

"Whatever, kid. I'm, what? Ten years yer senior?"

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow as they exited the modest looking shop disguised as a sweet shop. "You're thirty years old?"

Shiro abruptly stopped, wide golden eyes locked onto the redhead. "Yer _twenty_? Jesus…you look fifteen!"

"Tch. Why does everyone think I look fifteen?" Ichigo grumbled, narrowing kohl-lined eyes at his co-worker. "I don't seriously look that young…do I?"

"…" Shiro shook his head mutely before continuing on. "Whatever, doesn' really matter. I'm still older then ya by five years." He made a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway; his pale hand latching onto Ichigo's tanned one. "Stick close, kid."

Ichigo harrumphed, tensing at the contact slightly. "Why? In case I get mugged?" He didn't receive a reply; instead his co-worker tugged him closer, entwining their fingers together. "Shiro?"

"If ya wanna enter th' first ring, we need t' go through 'ere." Shiro stopped at an innocuous wall with a cracked mirror. Ichigo pondered over the reason for a mirror being there before discarding it. "T' enter th' first ring t' get to th' Shinigami's realm, ya need t' find this mirror or th' mirror along Raiu Avenue – it's by th' Ramen stand, you can't miss it – an', Urahara will give you one when you can carry out jobs on yer own, you need a Philosopher's Stone."

Ichigo sent a flat stare at the albino beside him. "…A Philosopher's Stone."

Shiro nodded, the lopsided grin curled round his lips not helping him to convince the tanned male. "Yep. Look, I'll show ya." He fished about in his pockets, finally taking a gem sized, silver wrought beaker full of some mercurial substance. "_This_ is a Philosopher's Stone. Doesn' look like a stone, I know, but blame th' Alchemist who named it, not me." (2)

"…" Ichigo sighed. Either this or whoring. Either this or whoring. "How does it take us to this 'first ring' place?"

"Like this."

Shiro moved his hand toward the mirror, the small beaker clinking against the grimy glass. Nothing happened for a few minutes and Ichigo was about to open his mouth to snap out a snide comment when the surface of the mirror rippled mystically.

Ochre eyes widened when the albino's hand sunk into the grimy glass, an eerie glowing white light emitting from the mirror. He yelped when he was unceremoniously dragged forward, Shiro already having shoved his whole arm into the mirror. "C'mon, kid! Don' ya wanna get paid?"

Ichigo stared with awe filled eyes at the albino, and, if he had to be corny, he'd say that Shiro looked like some divine angel at that moment. "…S-sure." He took a deep breath, and copied his co-worker. The liquid glass was cool to the touch, it felt…light. "Do we just walk through?"

"Yep." Shiro's lopsided grin grew larger. "Y'know, this jus' clinches th' fact that you've got high reiatsu. Normal folk wouldn' have been able t' see th' mirror, let alone do this."

Before Ichigo could ask what he meant by that, Shiro had already stepped through the mirror and – his hand still clasped tightly in Ichigo's – dragged the redhead after himself. Ichigo's gasp of surprise was cut off as he was fully submerged in the liquid glass.

The light dimmed from the mirror, the alleyway now deserted.

**(1) Apparently Masshiro means "snow white"**

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**(2)And the philosopher's stone is not from Fullmetal Alchemist but from Devil may cry. I have not watch the show yet but, for the sake of this story, I will watch some of it.**

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Me: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter even though I'm sure some of you have already read it.

Shiro: Hurry up and review! Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go an' kick the brat's ass.*unsheathes Zangetsu*

Me: H-hey, don't hurt him too badly!

Shiro: I won't~

Me: Oh god...Zangetsu, please don't let them kill each other.

Zangetsu:...

Me:*sighs*

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its' characters or even this story. Both are owned by Tite Kubo and KivaEmber respectively**

Me: I am SO sorry that I haven't added the second chapter to this. School and sudden anime mood changes have halted my updating.

Shiro: 'HAT'S NO EXCUSE!

Me:;_;

Ichigo: MASSHIRO!*slaps him upside the head*

Shiro: Ichi, what the hell!

Ichi: That's for being and insensitive idiot!

Me:*sweatdrops as an arguement ensues* Um...just read and please enjoy.

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Any preconceived assumption of how the Underworld looked like was promptly shattered into a million pieces as soon as Ichigo stepped out from the mirror.

With wide, kohl-lined eyes, Ichigo took in the large hall. It had an ancient Edo Japan feel to it, tatami mats slapped on the floor and great, ornamented sliding doors. What shocked Ichigo, however, were the black kimono wearing officials wandering up and down disorganised lines, katanas strapped comfortably to their white obi. The disorganised lines were ordered into three large groups.

Hell, Purgatory and Soul Society.

The 'Hell' group were filled with hardened criminals and the occasional dictator. Some looked as far back as ancient Egypt! Ichigo swore he saw Hitler sulking next to Stalin near the front of the line, but he mentally slapped himself. This whole situation was just weird.

The 'Purgatory' line seemed the most hectic, harried looking officials arguing with individuals, red slips of paper being brandished wildly by disagreeable humans. Ichigo guessed they were the ones being sent to the 'Hell' line and was soon proven correct when one of the officials – obviously reaching the end of his tether – dragged the raging man by the back of his collar and bodily threw him to the 'Hell' line.

The 'Soul Society' line was mostly filled with children; Ichigo didn't know whether or not to be disturbed by this fact.

He was jerked from his observation of the 'First Ring' by Shiro tugging him past the three groups and up to a rather disgruntled woman by some sort of ticket booth. She looked up with a scowl, waving her stamp threatening at the grinning albino. "Oi. Souls go over to the Purgatory group and get sorted into a line. This is for visitors only."

"Good thing we're visitors, then." Shiro snorted, reaching into his pocket and procuring a laminated card. "I'm th' Delivery boy, Masshiro Shiro from Urahara's Delivery Services." It sounded terribly rehearsed. "An' this is my partner, Kurosaki Ichigo. We've gotta delivery fer Mayuri-te- uh, Mayuri-san."

The official scrutinised the laminated card closely before nodding grudgingly. "Sure, sure. Go on ahead…" She rummaged about in the piles of paper and finally held out some strange looking white bracelets. "Put these on for identification. Have a nice day." She concluded in a bored tone, returning to her frantic stamping.

Ichigo, completely bewildered by the sheer weirdness of his situation, obediently accepted his bracelet and slotted it on. Shiro did the same with a small snicker. "You too, hag."

The woman's head snapped up sharply but Shiro had already ducked through the small sliding door, dragging a protesting Ichigo after him. The woman scowled and returned to her task with renewed vigour, stamping the papers hard enough to make an imprint on the oaken desk.

"Did you really have to annoy her? She had a _sword_." Ichigo hissed as the albino pulled him jauntily through the wide hallways. "Where are we anyway?"

"I told ya, kid." Shiro turned to the left abruptly, the redhead growling when he was jerked after him. "We're in th' first ring, or th' entrance t' th' Underworld. Shinigami hang out around 'ere and this is where th' main entrance is to Seireitei. Usually I would make th' delivery up and personal but Mayuri-teme would scare th' shit outta ya, so we'll jus' give it t' Nemu-san."

Ichigo frowned. "I'm not some wimpy brat."

"Believe me," Shiro warned. "When I first saw Mayuri-teme he scared th' shit outta me…but that could've been because Grimmjow said that he was a cannibal b'fore we met him…"

Ichigo rolled his eyes as they entered another hall, this one more modest then the last. "Who is Grimmjow? I heard Urahara mention him and someone called 'Ulquiorra'."

"Eh. They're th' demons Crackhead hired fer his deliveries. Grimmjow's a loony an' is obsessed with catnip an' Ulquiorra…is an animated rock. That's all I can say." Shiro sauntered up to another ticket booth. "Us two are th' humans of th' now four delivery people. Grimmjow was th' one who showed me th' ropes." Though he spend more time trying to scare him shitless, i.e. shoving him into Orthrus's den and atop of the beast itself. That was an unpleasant experience. "I'll tell ya more 'bout it later."

Demons? Shinigami? Underworld? Shiro couldn't have slipped him some form of hallucinogenic could he? He had been randomly plucked up from one of his clubs that gave the most business by the deranged albino, given a job and suddenly, he's being told that demons and Shinigami and God know what else exist! This was like a bad parody of Harry Potter.

"Yo! Delivery for Mayuri-san!" Shiro exclaimed at the dreamy looking girl sitting by a squat desk brimming with papers. She glanced up with eerily blank eyes and smiled politely at the albino.

"Masshiro-san…how nice to meet you. Do you have a Delivery for Kurotsuchi-taichou?"

"That's what I said, Nemu-san." Shiro drawled, fishing the small package from his pocket and handing it over to the dreamy looking girl. "Oh, an' meet my new partner, Kurosaki Ichigo. Though jus' call 'im 'kid'." He grunted when 'kid' kicked him in the shins. "Uh, I mean, Ichigo. Jus' call 'im Ichigo."

"Nice to meet you, Kurosaki-san." Nemu nodded to the redhead absently. "I hope to see more of you again." She then returned to scribbling on the paperwork before her, an obvious sign of dismissal.

"Tch. As usual." Shiro muttered to himself. "See ya Nemu-san!" The albino then marched out of the hall, his hand still clasped in Ichigo's. "Man, that girl's a strange one."

"Now what?" Ichigo asked curiously. "I mean, we delivered haven't we? Do we go back or…?"

"Not yet. We need t' get ya yer equipment."

Ichigo felt a sense of foreboding. "'Equipment'?"

"'Course." Shiro stopped in the middle of the hall, releasing his new co-worker's tanned hand. "Demons like Grimmjow an' Ulquiorra don' need equipment; they already came with 'em like those Barbie Dolls." He snickered at the thought. "Anyway, we 'weak' and 'powerless' humans need a medium t' channel our reiatsu." The albino pinned Ichigo with a penetrating stare, circling him predatorily. "Hmmm…prob'ly a _light_ weapon…"

Ichigo sighed. "You sure this is better then being a prostitute?"

"Yep. Don' worry, kid, I'll teach ya not t' cut yerself on yer weapon." Shiro latched onto the redhead's hand once more, continuing down the hallway. "Now then, we'll need t' make a stop round th' second ring. Place is crawlin' with inept demons but I'm strong enough t' make sure they don' try anythin'."

"Great. _Now_ I feel safe."

Shiro frowned. "Don' get snarky with me, kid. Jus' 'cause you're sufferin' from sexual frustration doesn' mean that ya hafta be grumpy."

Ichigo choked, ochre eyes blazing with rage. "W-what?"

Shiro released his new co-worker's hand, sprinting down the hallway with a maniacal laughter. "Nyaaaah! It's truuuuuuuuuuuuue!"

"GET BACK HERE YOU ALBINO FREAK!"

**X.x.X**

Ichigo grumbled, arms crossed mulishly across his chest as he scowled at the flaming scenery zooming by. Next to him (and sporting a nasty looking bruise on his cheek), Shiro sniffled exaggeratingly, looking at his partner with wounded eyes. "You didn' hafta hit me!"

Ichigo sighed. "That won't work on me, Shiro." Kohl-lined eyes flickered to his albino companion. "So, how much longer until this train reaches the second ring or whatever?"

Shiro stopped his act, reclining in his plushy seat with a flirtatious smirk playing on his pale lips. "Well, in 'bout ten minutes I suppose. Why? Don'tcha wanna be on this _romantic_ trainride with yer dear, old partner?"

"I was a _prostitute_, Shiro." Ichigo pointed out flatly. "We don't believe in _romance_. Only nice scenery where we can do our job."

"What a jaded, cynical twenty year old male you are." Shiro snickered, lounging comfortably in his seat. "But, yer right I guess. So that means I can't see how your technique is, then?"

Ichigo elbowed the albino harshly in the gut. Shiro took the hint.

"Well, that aside…" Shiro rubbed his abdomen gingerly. Kid sure did have sharp elbows. "I guess I should explain a bit more t' ya, eh?"

"That would be better then your lewd comments."

"'Kay, 'kay…but I really _did_ wanna see yer technique." He raised his hands in a pacifying manner as Ichigo's kohl-lined eyes narrowed. "Kiddin'! Kiddin'! Ahem…anyway…where should I start?"

Ichigo frowned in thought for a moment. "What is this?"

Shiro quirked an eyebrow. "This is a train."

The albino received another elbow to the gut. He groaned in pain.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed into slits, bronze eyes glinting menacingly. "I'm confused, hungry and suspecting that I've been drugged. I'm pretty annoyed at the moment, Shiro."

"Geeze, alright already." The albino tapped his chin with a black nailed finger. "Well…I guess t' put it bluntly…Demons an' th' Underworld an' shit like that exist. Are real." He ignored Ichigo's 'no shit, Sherlock' expression and continued. "But only a few humans can really interact with th' ten realms, or rings. Whatever floats yer boat."

Shiro ran a pale hand through his hair, trying to remember what Urahara had told him when the eternally unshaven man had 'employed' (kidnapped) him. He wasn't paying much attention then, thinking that the blonde man was doing drugs or escaped from a mental asylum (actually, he _still_ thought that). "Urahara's an ex-Shinigami, somethin' 'bout self-exile or some crap like that. An' bein' the…_genius_ that he is, decided t' run a delivery service t' pass th' time. So he went out lookin' fer potential employees. He found Grimmjow and Ulquiorra first, somethin' 'bout a bet with Garuda not bein' paid or whatever. Then he found me doin' my business in one of th' clubs. Apparently, I had 'high' levels of reiatsu fer a human so he decided t' employ me. Humans with high reiatsu ain't unheard of but pretty rare…"

Ichigo returned his gaze outside of the window, frowning at the thick spires twisting upwards into the stormy sky. "So…you picked me up because I had high reiatsu?"

"An' you reminded me of myself from seven years ago." Shiro yawned. "Believe me, this business is a lot of fun, if a lil' hectic. You'll fit right in."

Ichigo didn't know if that was a _good_ thing. The train began to slow down. "This our stop?"

"Yep!" Shiro pushed himself from his seat and held out a hand for his partner. "Stay close t' me. Yeh easy prey fer any inept demons or lesser Hollows without a weapon."

Ichigo took the offered hand with a sigh. "I still think I'm on drugs." He informed his albino companion as Shiro dragged him down the deserted train. The train stopped with an ominous screech and the dim lights above flickered off. "Now why does this remind me of Resident Evil or Devil May Cry?"

"'Cause th' maker of those games went on this train an' miraculously lived." Shiro snorted, kicking open the train door and cautiously jumping off. Ichigo stumbled a little but quickly regained his feet as he scanned their empty surroundings. "I don't see anything…"

"Hmmm…" Shiro tapped the ground with his foot. He stayed still for exactly two minutes before he relaxed. "It's clear."

"You sure?"

"Awww…" Shiro looked over his shoulder to flash a teasing grin at the nervous looking redhead. "Is wittle Ichi-chan, scared?"

"Shut it, albino freak." Ichigo snapped defensively. "It's not my fault that you've been telling me to grow eyes on the back of my head lest I get eaten by some monster."

"Hey!" Shiro twirled round, tugging the redhead close to him. "At least I haven' left ya all alone 'ere like Grimmjow did t' me!"

Ichigo growled when he stumbled against the albino's chest, recoiling from the contact almost instantly. He squeezed his albino partner's hand in anger. "Oh let's just go and get whatever it was you wanted to get! This place is creeping me out!"

Shiro's golden eyes twinkled knowingly but the albino kept his mouth shut, pivoting on his heel and continuing onwards to his destination instead.

Ichigo unconsciously moved closer to the albino, ignoring the fact that he was pressing heavily against his albino partner's arm that was attached to the hand holding his reassuringly. "Where is this place we're going to anyway?"

"Not far." Shiro answered. "Jus' round this corner."

Ichigo nodded, twitching when something creaked behind them. He vaguely noted that Shiro tensed subtly as they rounded the corner.

Ichigo choked. "Oh holy God."

Shiro blinked at the horde of countless inept demons before them. "Huh. Well that totally sucks."

**X.x.X**

Grimmjow kicked the door to HQ with a boisterous call. "We're back, ya crazy coot!" He ignored the faint _faint_ glimmer of annoyance in his stoic partner's verdant eyes and blinked at the shit-eating grin plastered across his boss's face. "Th' Hell got _you_ in such a good mood?"

"We've got a new member!" Urahara squealed happily. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow and took a notable step backwards – just in case the blonde man tried to hug him. "And he's such a cutie too! Masshiro-chan picked a really good one!"

"Whoa! Snow White picked him up?" The teal haired demon ruffled his short hair dubiously. "But he's _never_ picked anyone up. He's picky like that."

Ulquiorra cut in before their employer could answer. "Is he adequate?"

Urahara flapped his fan in barely contained excitement. "Oh yes! His reiatsu is _higher_ then Masshiro-chan's! A little untamed but he's young. He looks fifteen…so there's time to teach him how to use it!"

"So we've got ourselves a badass kid, then!" Grimmjow punched his hand eagerly. "Man, I can't wait to fight him!"

"He is a novice at the moment, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra's cold voice intoned behind the teal haired demon. "Allow Masshiro-san to train him first before trying to put our newest member into the hospital."

"Tch. You're no fun, you emotionless bastard." Grimmjow complained. He stomped past the grinning blonde man towards the back. "Ah well, what's this kid's name?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo!"

Grimmjow paused. "Strawberry? Heh. He's prob'ly just as fruity as Snow White then."

"Making assumptions from one's name is foolish." Ulquiorra said tonelessly. "As long as he is useful, there is no need to care about his preferences."

"Whatever. S'long as that fruity queen doesn' get him killed."

**X.x.X**

"Shiro." Ichigo stated in a _very_ calm and collected voice. "I am going to kill you with my bare hands if we live after this."

"Duly noted." Shiro drawled.

The two parties hadn't moved; the Inept Demons rooted to the spot as their hellish saffron eyes locked onto the two humans. They were an eclectic group, some resembling overstuffed puppets with rusted blades impaled into the coarse fabric just keeping the sickly green…liquid stuff in itself. Ichigo presumed it was acid by the way the gravel melted into slag by wayward droplets.

Others looked like deranged, hairless orang-utan babies, to put it simply. Rotting purple flesh, hollow white eyes and a gaping maw on a two foot humanoid thing was going to give Ichigo nightmares for days.

Screw it. He was going to _castrate_ Shiro before killing him.

In the middle of the nightmarish group of demons, a hulking, bipedal lizard hissed lowly, thick scales cracking as moss and dirt fell off in clumps off its scratched hide.

"Hmmm…" The albino tilted his head to the side, golden eyes narrowed. "What's a Lesser Demon doin' 'ere?"

"I don't care what it is!" Ichigo hissed, his grip on his partners arm tightening enough for Shiro to wince in pain. "Make it go away with its minions!"

"Sure, jus' hold on fer a sec while I go get out my giant flyswatter from my pocket."

Ichigo growled. "This is no time to be making jokes!"

The Inept Demons and Lesser Demon obviously got tired of waiting. The Lesser Demon shrieked shrilly, swiping a three clawed hand at the two humans. The horde of acid filled puppets and hairless orang-utan babies seethed, ear-splitting screeches deafening the two humans as the group charged forward.

"Oh shiiiiiiIIIIIIITT!"

Shiro laughed at his co-worker's panic, holding his arm that wasn't currently getting its circulation cut off via Ichigo's vicelike grip before him. "Here's yer first lesson on channelling reiatsu, kid." The albino said jauntily, red tinged, black lightning crackling at his fingertips. "_**Getsuuga Tenshou**_." He moved his arm sharply in a cutting motion.

Ichigo's eyes widened at the devastation those two words caused. A narrow blast of raw energy tore the gravel path before them, churning the earth with its sheer strength and slamming into the charging demons. The Inept Demons were only able to give a short shriek of agony before they were vaporised, a faint green mist all that remained of them.

The Lesser Demon grunted as the backlash slammed into its thick hide, causing it to stumble back a step. It hissed again, slitted gold eyes scanning its decimated mini-army. It pawed the heated ground once before disappearing in an explosion of dirt and gravel, a cavernous hole left where it previously stood.

Ichigo made an odd sound in the back of his throat, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. "T-That was…"

"Amazin'? Impressive? Fantastic? Sexy?" Shiro sniggered at the twenty year old's awe filled face. "Heh. That was child's play, kid. You'll be able t' do th' same in a month or so."

Kohl-lined eyes slowly blinked and Ichigo released his partner's arm from his deathgrip. "In a month…?" He shook his head to clear it of the daze that fogged his thoughts. The thought of able to do such a thing was such an attractive idea. "Wow."

Shiro giggled, lopsided grin curled round his lips. "Th' first order of business…t' get yer weapon." He gently grasped the stunned redhead's hand and began leading them through the ruined path and towards some type of town hall. "I think I've got th' perfect one for ya."

Ichigo's ochre lit up, barely contained excitement lilting his voice slightly. "Will it help me do that Getsuuga Tenshou thing?"

Shiro smothered a grin, kicking open the warped, wooden door of the dilapidated building. "Sure it will, kid. Prob'ly some other cool shit like that too. Each weapon gives different skills to their users after all." His golden eyes scanned the inside of the building, finally settling on a pitch black katana embedded in the altar near the cracked, stain glass windows. "There it is."

Ichigo's eyes swept over the pitch black blade, the sable metal slim and slender, silver chain coiled snugly round the onyx, crimson patterned hilt. His breath involuntarily hitched, a strange urge to grasp the slender hilt and pull it from its crumbling prison overwhelming his thoughts. His trembling hand reached forward hesitantly.

Shiro watched his companion's reaction carefully, golden eyes taking in the slight glaze in normally alert ochre eyes and the sight shallowness his breathing. He kept a firm grip on the redhead's free hand as Ichigo's slim fingers brushed against the hilt.

The chain dutifully unwrapped itself and Shiro grinned in triumph as Ichigo's hand enclosed round the slender, onyx hilt. It seemed that he was _right_. Tensa Zangetsu _was_ the blade for the redhead.

Ichigo pulled it with disturbing ease from the altar, the sable katana held out awkwardly before him. The ex-prostitute shuddered as a sudden wash of…_something_ lit his whole being, the feeling of holding this beautiful blade giving him a sense of _rightness_. It belonged to him. It was _made_ for him.

"That…" Shiro whispered softly, as if speaking too loud would make the blade and its new wielder vanish. "Is Tensa Zangetsu. I had a hunch that it would work on ya, an' my hunches have never let me down b'fore."

"Tensa Zangetsu…" The name rolled off his tongue easily. Ichigo allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "It feels like it belongs to me…" He lowered his arm, the tip of the sable blade digging into the inch thick dust. "But…I don't know how to wield a katana."

"It's a Zanpaktou, actually." Shiro corrected. "A normal sword wouldn' work on Demons, even th' weak ones. It's th' best an' only battle companion you'll ever have."

"Do you have one?" Ichigo whispered, ochre eyes still examining his new sword.

"'Course. Never use it unless I have to, though." Shiro frowned briefly but then shook his head. "I'll show it t' ya one day. Right now, we better go back b'fore Crackhead decides t' take all of th' money himself. Put it away."

Ichigo gave the albino an odd look. "How? I don't have anywhere to put it."

"Tch." Shiro shook his head. "Jus' think it away. It'll come when yer in trouble."

Ichigo looked dubious but furrowed his brows in concentration anyway. He yelped when the blade blinked out of existence, kohl-lined eyes staring at the now vacant space. "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder…"

Well, kid!" Shiro laughed, snagging his partners hand and dragging the mildly dazed twenty year old after himself. "Jus' wait 'til you meet everyone else in this business!"

Ichigo's small smile threatened to turn into a giddy grin.

His life may have done a complete 180° and he's now in danger of being eaten by a hungry demon…but this was the happiest he had ever been in all of his twenty years.

* * *

Me: I hope you all enjoyed it and for anyone who is waiting for the next chapter in Viceroy, don't worry, I'm working on it.

**H! Shiro: Ya better be! I'm tired of te brat complain'!**

Shiro: Hey, you're not in this story!

Urahara:*waves his fan with a suspicious looking grin on his face* Review my lovelies!


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